


Start of the Dance

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: Emma enjoys one of the good moments with her father before turning to the one she will have by her side from now on... (Post S3 finale, lots of fluffy goodness)





	Start of the Dance

This little Captain Swan fic takes place post-Season 3 finale, but parts of it have been in my mind ever since David’s dream sequence at the beginning of "The Tower" episode. I just had to find a way to fit the vision I had into a whole story framework. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Please leave your feedback; it really does help and encourage so much! I still don't own them, just celebrating how much I love them!! Also, as I continue digging back through my previous fics for the #ouat fandom crescendo over on Tumblr, I’m sure more may make their way over here.

(There’s a fair bit of David/Charming in this one as well, because I love Daddy!Charming and that sorta started the ball rolling on this one to begin with. ;)

"Start of the Dance"  
By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

 

"Emma, it's okay. Don't get frustrated," David's gentle chiding, his light, guiding hand at her waist, and the humored light in his paternally adoring eyes put Emma Swan somewhere between wanting to laugh along with him at her own expense or growl at him in frustration. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he continued. "You're doing fine."

Emma squared her shoulders once more and blew out a breath, concentrating and preparing to start over again. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes and call him out on his blatant lie. She was not catching onto this easily at all – didn't know how many times she had already stepped on her dad's feet, kicked him in the shins, or gotten their legs tangled together and almost pulled him down with her. She might be a princess by birthright, but attempting a traditional dance for her first ball (of sorts) was proving that royal graces had not been born into her naturally.

She put her hands back out, rested them lightly where her father had showed her and tried to relax into the starting hold position, to let herself be led. At that, David's eyes took on a sort of lost, misty quality, and Emma pulled back, concerned, studying his expression. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The prince shook his head and blinked rapidly, as if clearing the dismal thoughts from his consciousness. He didn't quite seem able to meet her clear-eyed gaze, and when he did, the sadness and guilt within his gentle eyes caught Emma off guard. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Lost track of where I was for a second…forget it…"

She wasn't buying that excuse for a minute, so when he glanced away, trying through a choked-sounding voice to begin counting time and leading her through the box step once more, she resisted and didn't budge. "Oh no," she said firmly, staring at him until he met her gaze, "out with it."

Her father's shoulders slumped, and his hand took hers, leading her over to the couch, which they had pushed out against the wall, clearing space in the living room of he, Snow, and baby Neal's loft apartment for their dance lesson. When they were seated next to each other, he squeezed her hand gently before releasing it and then running his own over his face and beginning to speak hesitantly. "Sometimes I just can't help mourning how much time with you we lost, Emma. At moments like this, my vision of how our lives would have been if you were always with us physically hurts. You went through so much pain. I put you in that wardrobe to save you…but in doing so, I sent my baby girl away to face a world alone. I failed you… Teaching you to dance now seems so ridiculously little to do in return…"

He trailed off, refusing to break down, but not able to keep speaking either. It went without saying that letting someone else lead and relinquishing control – which would make dancing so much easier for her – was difficult because of the life she'd had to live. Still that knowledge was there in the following silence, and they both knew it. That it was even harder for her to trust, to open herself, in relationships and in love was even clearer and more troublesome.

What Emma did offer at length, breaking the pained quiet between them with the best comfort she could give, seemed to bring a shaky smile back to his face. She grabbed his hand again, lacing their fingers together impulsively and holding on tight. There was steely strength in her eyes, but vulnerability too, allowing him to see a grown child's tentative hope. "What's done is done," she whispered hoarsely, holding his gaze with determination. "And I'm done dwelling on the past and being angry. I understand now the kind of impossible dilemma you were facing…and about loving your child enough to give a best chance. Henry taught me that." She swallowed convulsively and buried her face in the crook of his neck for a moment, then offered him a tremulous smile, trying for playful when she continued. "Besides, Dad, what did you tell me about living the moments? This is a good moment here. Despite my complete lack of skill, we're getting back one of those times we lost."

David nodded, hugging her with a hand cradling the back of her head in that way he had which made her feel like the cherished and protected child she should have been. "You're absolutely right," he agreed. Brushing a quick peck to her forehead, he stood and pulled Emma to her feet after him. "So what do you say, Daughter? Want to give this another try?"  
She nodded with an almost shy grin. "I'm definitely not ready to dance in public yet, so we'd better keep at it."

Both of them were laughing as they began to move together once more, slowly but surely finding their way, both in the stately, measured steps of the waltz, and as father and daughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of their Storybrooke ball was as gorgeous as any enchanted tale could have spun. Though they were still in a small town in Maine in the modern age, having now been there, Emma could honestly say that the combined efforts of Snow, Ruby, Belle, and Blue had rendered the simple town park and pavilion into what looked for all intents and purposes just like the grounds of some fairytale palace. The wooden planks of the stage for outdoor concerts were freshly painted a pristine white and surrounded all along the sides, up the support columns and across the ceiling by strings of white twinkle lights and trailing ivy. Handmade luminaries lined all the walks with a welcoming glow. Ruby had even cajoled Viktor into producing a dj booth he'd acquired from somewhere and spinning music for the town's celebration.

Rumplestiltskin and Belle had married nearly alone in the woods, but when the others had learned of their news, the townspeople had wanted to at least have a reception. It seemed there was much to celebrate – not only the wedding, but the Wicked Witch's defeat, the young prince's birth, and in general, the town's survival of yet another catastrophe. These folks were, after all, from a magical kingdom which knew how to lavishly make merry and enjoyed traditional pomp and circumstance. The seemingly reformed Dark One and his beloved had graciously accepted their congratulations and recognition without too much argument, and Emma couldn't help being somewhat softened toward Henry's other grandpa as she watched him swaying gently with Belle in his arms on the dance floor, their foreheads touching, with eyes only for each other. Though she wasn't sure she would ever completely understand how, Emma was glad that Belle could see the good in her "beast", and that the other woman could encourage a dangerous and bitter man to find the true and honorable heart beneath his dark façade. She knew, deep down, that there were surely people in the town who thought she and Belle had much in common, who were unable to see what she had found in a vengeful, broken pirate either.

Her thought of Killian Jones caused her to look away from the happy couple opening the festivities with their dance and scan the gathered faces for her Captain. Just the thought of him as "hers" warmed her insides and caused the corners of her mouth to quirk up in a tiny, satisfied smile. She didn't see him anywhere and a small bit of worry touched her brow. Obviously, it wasn't easy for him to see his "Crocodile" so happy, the truce the two of them had managed notwithstanding, nor did she expect him to desire to toast the Dark One's good fortune, but she had hoped he would focus on the aspect of town revelry and her parents' joy at her younger sibling's arrival. She knew that David and Snow had personally made him welcome, and she herself had teased him with the opportunity to see her in regal finery for only the second time ever. There was no way she could slip off unnoticed just yet, so for the moment she could only hope he wasn't somewhere drowning old wounds with rum in stalwart silence – at least until she could go find him. He had certainly come after her and pulled her from grief and self-pity often enough… Still, this night was supposed to be for happiness and the future, things she had in large part due to his efforts. Killian deserved to be part of it.  
She hadn't realized that the first dance had ended, a new song had begun, and that other couples were taking to the open floor, until her father appeared at her elbow. "May I have this dance?" he asked formally, a playful twinkle in his eye as he extended his arm.

Emma flushed, knowing that the moment had come, but also that they had a rather large audience and that over David's shoulder, her mother was watching them with tears in her eyes and a camera at the ready. She nodded, nerves evident, but took his offered arm tightly and let him lead the way, just as they had practiced.

Surprisingly, Emma found the rhythm more easily than she sometimes had in the past; her father's hand reassuringly steady at her back. The look on his face was priceless: loving, proud, and happy as they circled the floor, as agile as any of the other misplaced fairy tale dancers around them. "I knew you could do it, Emma," he complimented her, the praising father who would recognize her talents and efforts clear in his voice – just as she had always wished for years ago. "You've mastered anything I have ever seen you put your mind to."

She couldn't help the single tear that escaped her eye and slipped down her cheek, but she shook her head slightly when concern crossed David's features. "No, don't worry," she managed. "I'm just happy – really, actually, happy." She let herself enjoy the moment, even leaning her head on his shoulder before whispering, "This is how it would have always been, isn't it?"

He nodded against the top of her head, and Emma felt her father swallow hard with his own emotion before he responded. "It is. I can't bring back what vanished in between, but…I can promise you that this is how it will be from now on."

She nodded, and they danced on in silence, the moment peaceful between them, all the words needed having already been said. Emma was oblivious to the reverent and intrigued gazes they were drawing – the Crown Prince and his Princess daughter sharing their first public dance at her first official ball. Charming and Snow's loyal subjects – now more friends – had welcomed and loved their only daughter as if she had always been with them, respecting her as if she had grown up a ruler in their world. This dance only cemented it, even if Emma was unaware.

The music swelled around them, Emma's joy bubbling within her and continuing to edge out the pain of her life before, the hurt she had finally begun to let go. True, she and her family were robbed of so many of the previous moments they should have been able to share, but this one, as her father spun her out once more and twirled her back into his arms, would always be theirs. She glanced up at him, perplexed, however when he pulled away to press a kiss to her forehead, then stepped back to place her hand within the grasp of someone standing behind him whom she hadn't even seen.

When David moved away, Emma found herself face to face with Killian at last. If her heart had not already been near to bursting, her pirate's presence was the final piece to complete her bliss. His leather had been exchanged for a fancier tail coat in deep forest green, a white dress shirt (still dangerously, seductively half-unbuttoned), and tan breeches – and Emma found herself melting at the sight of him. The effort he had obviously put in to blend with the other celebrants and belong was almost as overwhelming as his handsome appearance. She gave him a knowing look, realizing that someone, mostly likely her mother or Henry, must have told him the color of dress she would be wearing so that he could match.

Killian's gaze swept her up as though he intended to devour her in a glance, blue darkening from sky to cobalt at the jewel tone green covered with black lace sumptuously contrasting her fair, flawless skin and golden curls. "You are a bloody marvel, Swan," he murmured, even as he stepped easily into the place her father had relinquished, forming a perfect frame and twirling her effortlessly back into the dance as if he had been waltzing properly at formal balls all his life.

She was practically gaping at him, and she knew it, her breath short with stunned attraction. Sure, they had managed a simple dance to maintain their cover on their adventure in the past, but now they were themselves, he was holding her close, and they were moving as one with certain things having been spoken between them at last. This was altogether different… so much more. Killian chuckled lightly, touching a finger beneath her chin to close her open mouth. "I was not always a pirate, remember, Love? Naval officers do attend palace functions rather often."

Looking up at him mischievously from under lowered lashes, Emma finally regained enough of her composure to banter back. She smirked, speaking softly for his ears alone. "You must have been quite the charmer in your day, Lieutenant Jones," she almost purred.

"Must have been?" he questioned in mock offense. "Oh Lass, you can't fool me. It would seem you still find me quite charming in the here and now."

He dipped his head, breath warm on her face, mouth hovering just over her lips, making Emma's heart beat flutter erratically like a trapped butterfly attempting to escape her chest while he made her wait for his kiss. His grin was so smug that she wanted to wipe it off his face, but instead found herself having all she could do not to trip on her own feet and handle the shivers he sent skittering irresistibly down her spine.

With her True Love beside her, silently promising in every look and every touch to hold her, to match her step for step in every dance, for the rest of their lives, Emma no longer had to doubt that she would find her way. He eased her into a graceful dip, and she mutedly registered slight applause as the dance ended. Killian bowed to her, then pulled her even closer in his embrace as the next song began. She might be just learning to let someone else lead, but the feeling it gave filled her opening heart with hope.


End file.
